Crowned in Black: Chapter 10

Man, Lucien is a real catch.

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The servant's passage ended in a staging area that connected the banquet hall to the kitchens - a staging area that was currently a cross between a circus and a prison. Shaking, terrified wait staff and cooks were putting the finishing touches on the food that was being sent out for Lucien's masturbatory feast. Or, well... they were trying to, because the servants had almost as many armed soldiers breathing down their necks while they worked. Supervising them was a grotesquely huge man, big enough to be a half-giant: nine feet tall, muscles popping, big lantern jaw. Nicolas was armored like a Space Marine in heavy full-plate, wielding dual spell gauntlets glowing with potent high-grade mana. Mean, beady blue eyes scrutinized every move the cooks made.

"Oh fuck," I breathed to Vash, halting in place. "It's fucking Nicolas."

"Shh. Act as if you belong." Vash and I had tied back our distinctive Tuun hairstyles with long white scarves, hiding the braids under a type of long bandana the butler assured us were common in parts of Lovi. We were carrying the trays of napkins that he'd been rushing to bring.

I steeled myself and hurried in, doing my best cowed servant impression as I oriented on what had to be the head waiter: a tall, thin man with a long thin moustache who directed the preparations like a conductor. He was pale, voice quiet and hands trembling as he directed a waitress to start taking out the second round of drinks. I'd seen parents with kids arrive at checkpoints like this before. The fear in his eyes wasn't just for himself. It was for his staff.

I made a beeline for him, and when he looked to me, I pulled up sharply with Vash just behind. His jaw relaxed slightly, but when he spoke, it was soft. "Oh, thank the gods: the napkins. Who are you? Where's-?"

"We're hired help. Master Harjula got pulled aside to serve one of the attending lords," I shot a glance to one of the Ilians and arched a brow, then looked back to him. "He gave us these to take to you."

"I see." The guy knew something was up, but he didn't so much pause. "Go place them beside the smorgasbord and be on your way. We have thirty seconds before this food has to go out."

Nicolas's gaze swept over us as we scurried to the table and placed napkins to either side. I summoned the core of white noise I'd learned to channel on the battlefield, the empty nothingness that suppressed fear.

"Everyone to their stations!" The head waiter called, clapping his hands. "Ten seconds!"

Vash was slightly quicker than me, and as everyone swirled around, he broke for the doors that led to the kitchens. I was only a step behind, but as I headed for the same door, a soldier roughly grabbed me by the arm on the way past and hauled me around.

"The hells do you think you're going?" He snapped. "Pick up that damn tray and get out there, or I'll tell the Knight Commander that your face is for wiping arses instead!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir." I channeled my inner boot, suddenly meek and obedient, and scurried back to the napkins. There wasn't a whole lot else I could do. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vash peek through a crack in the door, but there was fuck all I could do as the Head Waiter opened the doors to the banquet hall and the tide of staff swept out to start serving.

"Karalti, I'm being delayed. Tell Vash I'll catch up as soon as I can snag some empty glasses and return to the back of house," I thought to my dragon. "Are you guys close to Sohvi?"

"We've been delayed too. It's okay, though! A soldier is trying to hit on me," Karalti replied. "It’s this dumb short skirt. Ebisa is chasing him off. He's scared of the Mercurions."

"Roger that."

Lucien had gone all out with the banquet hall. It was a fine ballroom, like the kind of fancy white-and-red-and blonde wood hall found in the palaces of Paris or Budapest. Currently, it was over-decorated in the dark blue and gold colors of Ilia, ringed with tables. The party was nothing less than a forced mass kidnapping: the nobles of Revala were being seated at gunpoint in their finery, confined to their places by the ranks of Ilian soldiers lined up along the walls on one side, and the oppressive, terrifying presence of Mercurion war machines on the other. The Sangehti'tak were built to be both monstrous and elegant: each one was about twelve feet tall, large enough to contain their pilot and the mechanics needed to extract their gruesome fuel. There was something intensely predatory about their sleek, low-slung forms.

While I bustled around, setting down folded napkins, I counted eight Sangheti'tak in the ballroom: six of them formed a kind of inner praetorian guard around the table of 'honor' in the middle of the room. Two of them were holding the limp, half-naked, hooded form of Queen Eevi Aslan. I couldn't see her face, but I immediately recognized the tall, slim, Nordic figure who had swept so confidently into Vlachia's Orlihatz. Just looking at her now, my heart sank. Her ribcage was visibly dimpled in places, and she was covered in huge bruises from neck to belt. The Sangheti'tak were holding her by the arms, pulling them out to either side with vicious, crab-like crushing claws. Blood oozed from around the blades; her lifeless fingers were swollen, livid, and the skin of her arms already white and purple. I didn't have to get any closer to know that it was hopeless.

"I've got a visual on the queen. She's half-dead already. There's nothing we can do," I broadcast heavily to Karalti.

"Copy that," Karalti replied quietly.

Lucien was already there, a mug of beer in one hand, the other beefy arm looped around a nervous, beautiful courtesan perched on one knee. The woman was scantily clad in what looked like a short, draped dress, headband and veil made of pearls and thread, listening to him with the enthusiastic but affected attention of an experienced prostitute. No amount of giggling could disguise the fact that her bare back was tense, and slick with anxious sweat.

I made sure to keep my back to Lucien so he couldn't see my face, but was able to study him with my wrap-around vision. Over the span of six months, Lucien had gone from scrawny noodle to roid balloon. He'd put on at least another inch around his biceps since I'd last seen him, and had to be pushing two hundred pounds. Even so, he still had the same annoying, waspish voice and snide, arrogant air. After a couple seconds, I was able to pick out his words.

"So there I was, Chinese soldiers on every side, but there was absolutely no way I was going to let my buddy lay down and die," he said, after a long pull from his mug. "So I lay him against the base of a tree, made sure that he was covered up... and then I doubled back, sticking to the trees until I found the first squad that was tailing us. Those idiots had no idea what was coming for them until I swung out, aimed my rifle, and BAM! Took out the medic, first, and then the squad leader."

He mimed - badly - how to aim and fire a rifle. The prostitute cooed in admiration, but then reached for a glass of wine herself and chugged the whole thing.

"Yeah, it was really terrible to be conscripted," he sighed dramatically. "But in the end, I think it made me a better person and a better commander, you know?"

Oh… oh that draft-dodging, psychopathic, little cock blister. It took every ounce of willpower not to slam my fist into a plate, Shadow Dance across the hall, and cut his lying throat with it.

"And that history of mine is why tonight is a CELEBRATION," Lucien continued, gesturing grandly. "A celebration of a new beginning, a new dawn for Revala and maybe even all of Archemi. You see all throughout history, the weak are conquered by the strong. And the strong - like me - provide people with opportunity."

"Yes, my lord. You're especially generous," the courtesan replied, robotically.

"Lord? Don't you 'lord' me, slut." The woman gasped as he sunk his nails deep into the skin of her waist. His voice suddenly turned low and nasty, barely audible even for me. "I wedded and bedded the fucking princess, and the proper address now is 'His Majesty'. And if you don't want to end up worse than that bitch over there, you'd better not fucking forget it."

Any rage I'd been feeling was suddenly gone, replaced by icy, cold certainty. Some day, some how, I was going to perma-kill this motherfucker. I would gut Lucien and watch him gurgle his last breath into the dirt. Forever. I was so busy fantasizing about it that I didn't even notice Lord Torquist until he reached out, grabbed me by the sleeve, and yanked me back from moving to the next place.

"What are you DOING here?" He hissed.

"Shhh. Help me out," I whispered. Then, louder: "I'm sorry, sir: I'll go and see if they have it in the kitchens."

Torquist blinked, then cleared his throat. "Yes, very good. And make sure it's the Jorrvari 1274 red. There's a white by the same vineyard, but only a cad drinks white before a meal."

I bobbed my head and walked quickly for the nearest door, only to be stopped by a guard. He swung his bayonet up to my chest, glaring through his helmet.

"S-sorry, sir," I stammered, "I need to get to the kitchens. The duke has a special wine request."

"You're not going anywhere without an escort." The soldier jerked the tip of the bayonet toward the door. "Walk ahead of me."

I nodded and headed into the back of house. As I left the oppressive atmosphere of sobbing, retching, nervous laughter and Lucien's bragging, I was able to get on top of the anger - for now. I was thinking about all the ways I could kill the piece of shit as I opened the map ahead of me, and smoothly navigated to the kitchens. The atmosphere here was frantic, too: people toiled over stoves and ovens and plates. Vash was at one of the ovens, helping the bakers load huge trays of rolls. He caught my eye on the way past with a ‘what the fuck, dude?’ expression. I did some complicated thing with my eyebrows that roughly translated as: ‘Don’t look at me, it wasn’t my fault.’

"The wine is down in the cellar," I called back to my escort.

"The wine'll be up your arse if you don't go down and get it," he grouched back. "Hurry up."

"Excuse me, I have to go get some leaven from downstairs," Vash said to the baker, bowing slightly. He broke off before he got a response, heading down the stairs at the end of the room. I followed, the soldier in tow, and led him down into the dimly lit, cavern-like room below... and right into Vash, who stepped out from the shadows behind him, drove his aurum metal fist into the man's kidney from behind, and as he wheezed, pulled him around and broke his neck like a rabbit's.

"Nice kill," I hissed to him.

"Thank you. Burna rest this sycophant's soul. Idiot." Vash sketched a quick sign of benediction and grimaced. "Help me move this somewhere he won't be found. There's more guards up ahead, I'm sure of it."

"Leave them to me." Mehkhet's voice suddenly crawled in our ears, as the wraith merged out of one of the deep shadows under the flickering torches. "After what I have observed of this place and this murderer's workings, it will be my distinct pleasure to remove them."

"Go nuts." I grabbed the dead soldier's legs. "No soul eating though."

"But Master, that's the best part." Mehkhet sighed ruefully. "And yes, Baru... I'm joking."

Vash had been about to say something sharp, but only scowled. "Are you sure this one was a sage in life, or a jester? Because if he were a comedian, I now see why they put him to death."

“I thought Baru held respect for the dead.” Mehkhet lifted his head in dignified offence, and sailed off into the gloom.

For several minutes, there was no sound from the corridor ahead: no screams, not even muffled thumps. But after a few minutes, my HUD chimed.

[Your minion has killed Illian Soldiers! You gain 881 EXP!]

[Mehkhet the Illuminator (Greater Shade, minion) is now Unit Rank 15! (Level 30)]

Seconds later, I felt the prickling of Mehkhet's mind against mine. "It is done."

I motioned with my hand to Vash. He was done breaking the corpse into a barrel, and was reading the label of a bottle of fine wine - which he stuffed down the front of his shirt and into his Inventory. We headed down to find Mehkhet outside of a locked and barred door, hovering between the mummified, still-standing corpses of two Ilian soldiers. The shade seemed... larger. When I tested my link to him, I still felt well in control, but when I checked his minion sheet, I couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten way more powerful, really fast.

Mehkhet the Illuminator

Unit Rank: 15 (Level 30, Rare)

Type: Incorporeal Undead

HP: 1566/1566

MP: 625/625

Speed: 200 (Extremely Fast)

Melee Attack: 20

Melee Defense: 55

Abilities: Life Drain, Incorporeal, Lore Master, Researcher, Magic (See full character sheet for details), Inspire Terror.

EXP: 35988 (+1298 to next level)

I felt a tingle of foreboding. As wraiths went, Mehkhet was pretty laidback, but I'd been relying on him a lot - and he seemed to at least partly level with me. If he exceeded my level at any point, I'd lose control of him.

"There were two more on the other side," Mehkhet said mildly. "Also dealt with."

"Uh... thanks." I winced as Vash turned a dark, shrewd stare on me. "Nice work."

"Nice?" Mehkhet made a long-suffering sound of woe. "You know, I went my entire life without harming another human being until I met you."

"Look, I'm sorry, but motherfuckers gotta die sometimes," I replied. "Now come on. After seeing Eevi in the banquet hall, we need to get Ignas out of here, now."

"Indeed." Mehkhet turned, and billowed through the entry to the dungeons ahead of us.

"I don't trust that shade," Vash muttered to me. "He obeys you, but the moment your control slips..."

"I know. And it won't." I pressed my lips together, and went to go ransack the dead guards. One of them had the [Dungeon Key] we needed. I pulled it off him and unlocked the door, jumping when another dried corpse tumbled to the side and struck the ground with a hollow cracking sound. "Yikes."

"If only we all had confidence like yours, Dog," Vash sighed.

We pulled all four bodies into the dark, dank hallway and locked it behind us. The hallway ahead was raw stone, lined with barred niches behind which were stored barrels, crates, and sacks that squeaked and chattered. There were no torches other than the two beside the heavy door behind us. We pushed down the corridor, all three of us little more than black ghosts as we headed down a flight of winding stairs. There was another barred door at the bottom, which we unlocked and eased open. The butler's map showed this to be the guards' quarters - and sure enough, six Ilian soldiers sat around a trestle table, eating and talking.

I glanced up. The ceiling overhead was high enough for me to be able to execute jumping attacks.

"Shock and awe. One each to flank, me straight in." I whispered to Vash and Mehkhet, signaling positioning with one hand. "In three, two... one."

On one, I pushed the door in and sprung in, Shadow Dancing across the straw-covered floor in a blur, leaping to the height the ceiling allowed for. The guards had no idea what hit them: I caught a glimpse of white, confused faces just before I slammed the point of the spear into the table. Within a split second, a ball of dark energy gathered, intensified, then burst out into a deadly flower that engulfed all six men. Before they could even reach for their weapons, Darkness Falls tore their HP apart. When the frost cleared, it left nothing but frozen corpses.

[Surprise attack! Stealth bonus: You gain 2035 EXP!]

"And that's how that is done, my friends." I spun the Spear over the back of my hand and snatched it out of the air.

"Yes, we know." Vash flashed me a look of deep resignation. "Well, then, Chosen of Burna... where to from here?"

I pulled the map up, crouching on the table as I ransacked the corpses for keys. They each had a copy of the [Cell Keys], but only one had a key to the [Torture Chamber]. "We're either going to find Ignas in the torture chamber or the shittiest cell in this place, I'd stake my ass on it. The torture chamber is in front of the cells - we can go there first and look. And hope we don't find anything."

Vash grunted. "Can we send the shade ahead?"

"No." Mehkhet's voice echoed from somewhere around us. "The complex, from this point forward, is warded. I may enter only through opened doors."

"Alright. Well… let’s see what we find." I took all the keys, just in case they were for different cells, and headed for the grim wooden door to the Torture Chamber.